Cruel Trick of Nature
by Deep Forest Green
Summary: Short vignettes about the lives of the Thénardiers, who have a relationship you might not expect. TW for incest.


Lucille Thénardier always knew that she would marry her brother Henri. She didn't even think about it; it was just a fact of life. The two had been orphaned at an early age, and had no one besides each other. If such a thing as soulmates existed, they would be the prime example. They trusted each other completely, depended upon each other for everything, and never thought of ever leaving each other. No brother and sister could ever be more similar.

They had been born Isabeau, the children of a baker in the town of Faverolles, right before the Revolution. Their father made a decent living until the Terror spread, and all their brothers and sisters either died of cold or hunger. The only comfort they had was that they were better off than certain families, like the Valjean-Mathieus, who had lost their home and the brother needed work.

The winter of 1795 was a particularly harsh one. The brother broke into the shop, ruining the window and stealing one of their best loaves of bread. Young Henri witnessed this, and it made his blood boil. They never saw Valjean after that, nor his sister. But the damage to the shop was irreparable, not with what they were making. They tried to patch up the hole, but it looked ugly and merely served to entice other thieves, some of whom were never caught. The cold air chilled the oven-fresh bread, making it unappetizing and nearly unprofitable for their father. He lost the business in the spring, and the family was forced to live on the streets.

Their father abandoned them when he could no longer afford to care for them. Henri, then twelve years old, and Lucille, nine, hardened their hearts to him. They denied him as a father, taking on the name Thénardier instead. When we have kids someday, Henri said to his sister, we won't treat them that way. We'll give them everything we've got. Lucille agreed wholeheartedly.

* * *

Following the Napoleonic army was far from an ideal life, but it suited them. They were scavengers; they always had been. Henri put on his entertaining show of pretending to be a patriot and hiding in the shadows whenever the call to duty came. Lucille laughed it off every time and told him how clever and charming he was, practice for becoming a businessman. Nothing much had really changed for them. They still hid the fact that they were siblings, not so much out of fear of societal condemnation, but because it was like their own personal reference, an inside joke. Besides, everyone already assumed that they were married, so there was no need to go through the formalities.

Their one triumph was Colonel Georges Pontmercy. Henri would forever be thankful for that day, when he thought all hope was gone of him saving up enough money, that he wandered among the dead. He could not believe that God had bestowed such a valuable treasure upon men like him, the secretive side of creation the rich would never know- the open battlefield, the sewer, the ghost town, the deserted cave, with gifts waiting to be given as a reward to those who had no prize, nothing else to look forward to in life, a reward for the hardest work which was no work at all. And luckily, the colonel saw honor in him. He gave him inadvertently a ring and advertently a smile. Though Henri would never admit it, he was glad the colonel woke up to give him that smile- and equally glad he hadn't woken up a minute sooner.

Colonel Pontmercy told Henri that he had a five-year-old son named Marius. This vulnerable name stuck into Henri's head instantly, as he was convinced that this young heir would someday be his salvation. Fate had intervened on his behalf once, and it could do it again. It would- it had to. He was on an up-an-up, a stream of luck, a flow of victory. God must be telling him that he was on the right track, that he was doing something right. He would be a fool to ignore his one-in-a-million winning streak, and he told Lucille as much.

When the war ended, they decided they were ready to settle down and have children. So they came to a quiet little town named Montfermeil, where people didn't ask questions, and bought the cheapest property they could find- on credit- for a place to build an inn.

In 1816, Lucille discovered that she was pregnant. She told Henri excitedly as soon as she realized it. Henri was equally thrilled to become a father, now that he could finally support a family. Maybe in a more stable political situation, they would be able to accomplish what their own father had snatched away from him all those years ago.

To Monsieur's chagrin and Madame's delight, the first child was a girl. They were both quite relieved that the child showed no signs of any of the deformities that frequently accompany children born under such circumstances; in fact, with enough food, she was quite pretty. They named her Éponine, after a historical woman Henri had heard about while following the soldiers. Napoleon's troops were fascinated with Roman times and loved to tell the tragic story of the Gallic officer Sabinus and his brave, loyal wife Epponina. Henri teased Lucille about wanting to name their daughter after a patriotic (not to mention pagan) heroine, but he wasn't surprised. After all, he knew all her quirks and her surprising little philias. He could read her like an open book. The couple told each other, half-jokingly, that someday little Éponine would marry young Marius, and that he and the Colonel would get together every day under the inn to drink wine, celebrate, cheer and be merry for the union of their children in such a happy and convenient matrimony.

Éponine having given them confidence, they tried again. Their second daughter Azelma was born a year later, and although she was a bit thinner than Éponine, she too was quite beautiful and healthy. Meanwhile, Lucille was rapidly and purposefully gaining weight; unlike Henri, she feared starving again. Her husband had never had much of an appetite for food; being catlike, he preferred the chase to the feast. But Lucille was damned if she was ever going to give up this little nest that she had built for herself and her daughters.

* * *

Some years after their marriage, Lucille discovered romance novels. Being a housewife, she needed something to pass the time, and reading was just the thing. It had never occurred to her that most people didn't marry the person they had grown up with, but somehow it felt right. Indeed, it was more romantic when you were just meeting the man. Slowly, unconsciously, she began to grow bored with her husband. It was also around this time that she decided she didn't want any sons. They'd grow up to be just like their father and grandfather. She'd seen how every other family valued boys, and she wanted to be the exact opposite of that.

Three sons were born to Lucille in less rapid succession; Gavroche and two others whom she had not had the time to name. They seemed to have just slipped by; she alternately hated them and gave little thought to them one way or the other. She simply could not consider them a part of herself like her daughters. So she did the only thing she knew how to do: she cast them away for money, with the encouragement of Henri. It was an elaborate trick, and they were both quite fond of tricks for the sake of the art. After all, the boys were three more mouths to feed, and it would be a long time before they could make themselves useful. She had managed to convince Henri that daughters were better than sons; which was truly a testament to her power over him, as he was a remarkably stubborn man.

It was around this time that a young woman showed up at Lucille's doorstep, barely more than a girl, with hair as golden as ripe wheat and eyes of cobalt blue. She had such an effortless thin frame, such innocent charm, that Lucille was immediately jealous. She thought she had escaped from one of her novels. Her child even had a romantic name- Euphrasie- which was a pity to waste on such a ragged creature. Lucille wanted to do was ask this lovely shadow her secrets, how she was so radiant and beautiful. But the shadow seemed sad; her beauty had not brought her happiness. So, with this option gone, it became her new mission in life to drag this harlot down to her level.

It was a practical consideration. She knew that they were in debt and she had to do her duty to her husband, to keep the inn from going under and their children from losing the roof over their heads. It was a choice any mother would have made. Surely the passing stranger would understand. And if she didn't- well, Lucille didn't care a whit. She was looking out for numbers one, two, three and four.

* * *

Sitting in the freezing apartment in Saint Michel in February 1832, Lucille Isabeau Thénardier Jondrette huddled with her daughters, squatting with her knees pressed tightly to her voluminous breasts. Her rosaceous face had grown bony and gaunt, and now she understood the hate for humanity that her brother, her husband, had felt so strongly all his life. Maybe there was some little piece that got passed on to him and not to her, something only men were capable of. Maybe she was doomed as a woman to forever wallow between the extremes, to take part in the criminal world without taking pleasure. Now there was nothing for her to do except wait for the old man to return. And there was no guarantee that he would.

_Oh, mon frère,_ she thought miserably, _when __did we ever grow apart?_

* * *

Without his sister, Henri was like a man missing a limb. It could not exactly be said that he missed her. Rather, he was incomplete. He still committed schemes from time to time, but he did not enjoy them anymore. Maybe it was Éponine's death that had done it. He had never understood why she had been so stupid as to take her own life. She had been her mother's child, he realized now. He hadn't thought there was a difference- he thought of her as his own, and had pushed her to act accordingly. But there was some part of her that was just... romantic.

She hadn't known. He had never told her, but maybe she had suspected. He never talked to anyone about his past. Maybe there were ways you could know, ways you could sense such a thing. Maybe she had been ashamed that Monsieur Pontmercy would find out and be too disgusted to even look at her ever again. Henri had never comprehended the emotion of disgust, but the onset of his hatred for Marius Pontmercy did happen to coincide- not so coincidentally- with Marius' hatred for him. He had been indifferent to the young baron when he moved in, but he had to lose all respect for the man when he married that girl about whom he knew nothing. For all he knew, she could be his sister. That man- the Lark's father, that man who had ruined their lives all those years ago; it was he who had taken Cosette away and made her his pet. And now he thought he could just come back and undo all the damage he did by giving them a few coins- of course the plan must have been to send them to jail all along! Did he think they were stupid? Why did he insist on adding insult to injury? Was it not enough, how his family had suffered? Surely Valjean must be punished again for the misery he had caused in the world. All these thoughts whirled around in Henri's mind in the aftermath of his daughter's death.

So it was with a complete lack of pride that Henri got in the fiacre to ride to the coast and board the ship that would cross the Atlantic. He held Azelma's hand tightly, more tightly than he had ever clutched a gold coin. All he could do now was hope that there was a better life awaiting him and his remaining daughter- his niece- in America.

* * *

**AN- I know that in the book, Monsieur Thénardier is about 15 years older than his wife, but in this he's only a few years older. Also, Mme's body type is more similar to her husband's- bony and skinny, not fat and huge. So it's not really book or musical canon. Just my personal headcanon.**


End file.
